After The Storm
by Starfox500
Summary: After a storm hits Mirkwood a simple mission to check for damage turns into a fight for survival.
1. Worrying

**Disclaimer: Lord of The Rings and its characters are the property of Tolkien.**

* * *

 **After The Storm**

by Starfox

 _It should have been safe_. That thought went through his head as he stood and surveyed the carnage around him.

A storm had hit Mirkwood hard and after it had passed, there had been a lot of damage that needed to be assessed and repaired. He had volunteered to inspect part of the forest, to check for damages and to see how much work needed to be done to clear the paths. He had just inspected a fallen tree on a clearing and hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings when suddenly orcs had attacked from the other side of the glade. So far into the territory of the elves they had never encountered orcs before. Maybe they had fled from the storm and lost their way or another dark purpose had led them there. It didn't matter, suddenly he was on his own against more than twenty orcs.

The first ones he felled with his bow, but when they came too near, he had to use his knifes and a desperate battle for survival began. He had fought with the reckless abandon of someone who knew what the orcs would do to him if they managed to capture him and who preferred death over capture by these creatures. The battle was fierce and he was victorious in the end but it cost him dearly. An orc arrow had struck him in the left thigh and he was bleeding from numerous wounds. The worst one was a deep wound in his side, where an orc scimitar had managed to get past his defenses. It bled heavily and he felt himself growing weaker by the minute.

He cut strips from his cloak and did his best to dress the wounds and stop the bleeding. It was agony to rip out the arrow and for a moment his sight faded to black. Panting, he fought to remain conscious. After he had done what he could for his injuries, he considered his next actions. He knew that he was seriously wounded and needed help as soon as possible. He couldn't stay in the clearing, the smell could attract spiders. So his only option was to try to get back to the palace.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself for what he knew wouldn't be pleasant. Each step was agony, as pain ripped through his thigh and his side. Only sheer determination kept him going. It was slow process and he had to rest often to gather some strength so that he could continue on his way. Night fell and as he felt his energy leaving him, he rested for a few hours beneath a tree. It was dangerous, because every moment spiders could turn up, attracted by the smell of his blood.

In the morning he pushed himself forward again, but his mind was so clouded by blood loss, pain and exhaustion that he was barely aware of what went on around him. He didn't notice the small vibrations in the ground that were caused from oncoming hoof beats. He didn't even recognize his name being called.

Only when two hands took hold of his shoulders, stopping his forward movement, did he lift his head and try to see. Even then it took him a moment to recognize the shocked face of his father.

"Ada," he murmured. Then his strength finally gave out, his sight blurred and his legs buckled beneath him.

He felt himself being caught and gently lifted into strong arms, then his consciousness fled and he fell into darkness.

* * *

Thranduil was worried. He read the damage reports coming in, but he couldn't concentrate properly. Legolas had left the palace in the morning, intending to inspect the paths in the south of the palace. He wanted to be back in the evening, but it was getting very late and he still hadn't returned. The forest was dangerous at night and even if Legolas was a skilled warrior, Thranduil would have preferred to have his son home for the night.

The hours passed slowly and still there was no sign of Legolas. He hoped that he was only delayed because of some unforeseen event but he felt troubled. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. Even the forest seemed uneasy, as if something bad had happened. Thranduil didn't find rest during these long hours. As the morning dawned, he called Angon, the captain of the royal guard, to his study.

As the captain entered the study, he bowed to his King.

"Still no sign of Legolas? Thranduil asked.

"No, Sire, he has not returned." Angon could see the worry in Thranduil's eyes. He too, felt uneasy. Legolas was a long time overdue now and he feared that something had happened.

"Take nine warriors and meet me at the stables," the King ordered. "We will follow him."

Angon bowed again, glad that the King had decided to take action. At least now they could do something instead of just sitting there and waiting for news. "Aye, Sire, we'll be there immediately."

Thranduil gathered his weapons and made his way to the stables. Since the paths directly near the palace had already been cleared, they should be able to move relatively fast. As he readied his stallion, Angon and the other warriors arrived.

They quickly were ready to leave and the small group headed off in the direction Legolas had taken.

As they rode on, they found signs of Legolas' passing, where fallen logs had been moved aside or larger trees had been marked for removal. At least they knew now that he had taken the path as planned and that they were heading in the right direction.

It was late in the morning when Tinwion, who was riding a bit ahead, suddenly called out, "My Lord, there is someone on the path."

Thranduil drew near to Tinwion and fixed his gaze ahead. Indeed, there was somebody coming down the path in their direction. The figure moved slowly, more stumbling along than walking. At last Thranduil was near enough to recognize the elf. They had found Legolas.

His son looked dreadful. His hair was matted and dirty, his clothes were torn in various places and he was covered in blood. His head was lowered and he stared at the path in front of him as if it took all of his concentration to keep moving. He was limping heavily and Thranduil could see the blood that stained his left thigh and side.

"Legolas," he called.

His son didn't react in the slightest. Obviously he wasn't even aware of his presence.

Thranduil reined his horse in and dismounted nearly before it had come to a complete stop. He hurried to his son, noting with dismay that Legolas didn't seem to notice his surroundings. He placed his hands on his son's shoulders, halting his forward movement.

"Legolas," he repeated.

His son lifted his head and fixed his gaze on his father. He appeared dazed and his eyes were unfocussed. After a few moments he seemed to focus and Thranduil saw recognition flash in his eyes.

"Ada," Legolas murmured.

Before Thranduil could reply or react in any way, Legolas' eyes lost focus again and his legs buckled. He would have fallen had Thranduil not caught him.

So the King stood there, his unconscious and badly wounded son in his arms.

Thranduil gently lowered Legolas to the ground. By now, Angon was beside him. He undid the strap that held Legolas' weapons in place and removed them. Thranduil hardly noticed that Tinwion had also approached and took them, securing his son's weapons to his horse.

"By the Valar, what happened to him?" Angon exclaimed.

Thranduil noted the black blood that covered Legolas' tunic along with his own. "Looks like orcs. Since when do orcs come that close to the palace?" He examined Legolas, shocked to see his numerous injuries.

"Never before did that happen," Angon stated.

Thranduil and Angon exchanged a gaze. Both of them looked grim. They knew that the situation was serious and that Legolas needed more help than they could give him.

"We need to bring him to the palace," Thranduil said. "Captain, take six warriors with you and follow his tracks. Try to find out what happened, but be careful. We don't know if there are still orcs around."

Angon nodded. "Aye, Sire." He motioned to six other elves to accompany him, then he gave Legolas one last look, before mounting his horse and riding in the direction Legolas had come from.

Thranduil checked that the wounds had stopped bleeding for the moment, then he gathered his son in his arms again.

As he neared his horse, Tinwion came closer. "Sire, let me help you with him."

The King passed his son over to the other elf and mounted his horse. Tinwion carefully handed Legolas up to him.

After Legolas was settled securely in front of his father, Tinwion got on his horse and the small group turned back to the palace.

Thranduil held his unconscious son in his arms, noting how utterly limp and pale he was and praying that they wouldn't be too late, that Legolas wasn't beyond help.


	2. Caring

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and liked the story. Your comments are greatly appreciated.

* * *

They were much faster on their way back, since they didn't need to look for tracks. As they neared the palace, Fingaeron, one of the warriors, rode ahead to alert the healers of the situation.

When Thranduil and the others arrived, they were already awaited. Four elves carried a litter and neared the King as soon as he stopped his horse.

Tinwion dismounted and took Legolas from Thranduil. He gently placed him on the litter and swiftly Legolas was carried inside the palace and to the healing rooms.

Thranduil walked beside his son, watching his ashen face with anxiety. The thought of losing Legolas terrified him.

The elves they passed on their way looked shocked as they saw their injured Prince. There were several exclamations of horror and dismay.

Finally they reached the healing rooms and Legolas was carried to the room that was reserved for the royal family. Celairdir, the head healer, awaited them along with two other healers. He had already prepared bowls of hot water, several herbs and bandages.

Keen eyes took in Legolas' condition and the healer couldn't suppress a shocked gasp. "Elbereth, what happened to him?"

"Orcs," Thranduil explained curtly. He helped to transfer his son carefully from the litter to a bed. The elves that had carried Legolas bowed to their King and left the room.

Celairdir began a first cursory examination, then he began to cut Legolas' tunic and shirt off. With the garments gone, they could see the full extend of his injuries. The wound in his side was deep and had started to bleed again.

Celairdir looked at Thranduil. "It's bad. Why don't you wait outside while we take care of him?"

Thranduil shook his head. "I have tended more than enough wounds, especially at Dagorlad."

The healer gave him a questioning look. "That you did. But he is your son. Are you sure you can handle it?" He bent over Legolas again, pressing a cloth against the wound in his side.

Thranduil was determined. "I will not leave," he said firmly. He took a cloth, wetted it and began to gently clean Legolas of the blood and gore.

Celairdir kept pressure on the wound for some time, then as the blood flow had stopped, he began stitching it.

One of the other healers had mixed a herbal paste and brought it over. Celairgir thanked him and spread the paste over the wound. "I fear the orcs' weapons have been poisoned," he said quietly.

Thranduil faltered for a moment. The fear he felt for his son's live nearly paralyzed him. Legolas was deathly pale and the prospect that he had been poisoned on top of his injuries didn't bode well for his chances of survival.

"Will he live?" he asked.

As much as Celairdir wanted to reassure his King, he felt that Thranduil deserved honesty. "I can't say yet. He lost a lot of blood and his wounds are severe."

Thranduil sighed, once more taking in his son's still face. It wasn't the first time that Legolas was injured, but this was the worst he had seen so far. Speaking a silent prayer to the Valar he continued to tend to him.

After what felt like an eternity, Celairdir finally finished, stitching and dressing the arrow wound at last. He thanked the other healers and dismissed them.

They dressed Legolas in loose fitting leggings and a shirt then Celairdir lifted him and placed a cup against his lips. Slowly and carefully he fed Legolas the liquid. "I hope this helps, since we don't know which poison was used," he murmured. After the cup was empty, Celairdir lowered Legolas back down and placed the cup on a table near the bed.

Thranduil took a blanket and spread it over his son. Wearily, he dropped in a chair beside the bed and buried his head in his hands.

Celairdir came to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Have faith, my friend, Legolas is strong."

The King lowered his hands and stared at Legolas. "I hope you are right. I can't bear the thought of losing him."

Celairdir didn't know what to say to that. He knew Thranduil for millennia and he had been there when he lost first his father, then his wife. Both losses had been devastating blows to the other elf. He didn't know if Thranduil would find the strength to cope with another loss. Especially since Legolas was all he had left.

Sending a silent prayer to the Valar, he started to clean up the room, leaving Thranduil sitting at his son's side.

* * *

It had been several hours and Legolas' condition hadn't changed. His breathing was shallow and his skin clammy. Thranduil hadn't moved. He still sat in the chair at his son's bedside, holding his hand and watching anxiously for any change. Celairdir had stepped out for a moment so he was alone with Legolas.

Thranduil was so deep in thought that he took a moment to realize that somebody had knocked lightly at the door. Pulled out of his worried musings, he straightened, stood up and went to the door.

Angon stood on the other side, smelling faintly of smoke and carrying a wrapped bundle. Thranduil motioned him in and preceded him to the small chamber that adjoined the healing room. The chamber was used by the royal family, when a patient was well enough to be allowed out of bed or for family members to stay close to the patient.

As they crossed the healing room, Angon cast a look at Legolas. "How is he?" he asked quietly.

"He lost a lot of blood and Celairdir thinks his wounds are poisoned. We can only wait and hope for the best." Thranduil was subdued and Angon noticed the worry in his eyes.

As they reached the adjoining room, they sat down in two chairs grouped around a table.

"We found a clearing a few miles ahead where obviously a fight took place," Angon reported. "There were more than twenty dead orcs." The captain was still amazed about the amount of orcs and the fact that apparently Legolas had fought and killed them on his own. This explained the condition they found him in. It was a small wonder that he had survived at all.

Thranduil closed his eyes. He couldn't believe it. It was supposed to be a quick damage check within the safe part of the wood. How could things have gone so wrong? He opened his eyes and held Angon's gaze. "More than twenty orcs?"

"Yes. From what we could see, they attacked Legolas from one side of the clearing. A few were killed by arrows but most of them were killed with his blades."

"Elbereth, it is a wonder he is still alive," Thranduil murmured.

Angon nodded affirmative. "We gathered the corpses and burned them. Since I suspected that their weapons were poisoned, I took a few of them with me." He put the bundle on the table and pulled back the cloth. The package contained three arrows and two scimitars.

"Well done," Thranduil praised. I hope that will help Celairdir to determine the poison."

"I'm glad I could be of service. May I see Legolas for a moment?" Angon had been Legolas' weapons master and Thranduil was well aware of the fact that he was very fond of his son.

"Of course," Thranduil permitted. He led the way back into the healing room and to Legolas' bedside.

Angon had to suppress a gasp at the sight that greeted him. Legolas was deathly pale, his eyes were closed and there were dark circles beneath his lids. He carefully reached out and put a hand on Legolas' shoulder.

Thranduil sighed. "I should not have let him go alone. If there had been a bigger group of elves maybe none of this would have happened."

Angon looked up from the still elf in the bed. "Sire, you know how careful Legolas is. He wouldn't have gone alone if he would have thought there was danger. Do you blame him for what happened?"

Thranduil was taken aback. "What? Of course not. How could any of this be his fault?"

The captain met Thranduil's gaze evenly. "So why do you blame yourself? If he didn't know, how should you have known?"

The King took a deep breath and gazed down at his son. Deep inside he knew that Angon was right, but it pained him to see Legolas like this and his mind was churning. It wasn't easy to accept that what happened had just been bad luck.

"I want patrols to search the forest. Make sure that there are not more orcs hiding somewhere. I don't want those vile creatures threatening the elves of this kingdom."

Angon nodded. "I will arrange groups to scout the forest up to the old forest road. We will find them if there are more." His eyes flashed with determination.

"Good," Thranduil approved.

Angon bowed, cast one last look at Legolas and left the room.

Outside he leaned against the door and took a deep breath. He prayed to the Valar that the Prince would pull through and recover. The alternative was unthinkable.

* * *

During the night Legolas had developed a fever. Although Celairdir had been able to determine the poison and administer an antidote, the poison was still wreaking havoc in Legolas' body. The fever sapped him of his last strength and Celairdir and Thranduil did their best to fight it. Celairdir hoped that the antidote would do its work soon. If not, the outlook was more than grim.

At last, after hours of battling the fever, their efforts succeeded. Early in the afternoon, the fever finally broke. The whole ordeal left Legolas utterly drained and weak. His pulse was feeble and his breathing labored.

Celairdir laid a hand on Legolas' brow, checking his temperature. "The fever is gone, but he is very weak." He carefully checked the wounds for any sign of infection. "Let's hope that he doesn't develop any more complications."

Thranduil wearily sank down into the chair next to Legolas' bed, studying his unconscious son anxiously. The normally so composed King looked haggard and troubled.

Celairdir went to the table, put a few different herbs in a mortar and crushed them with a pestle, then he mixed a herbal potion out of them. "I'll give him something to strengthen him and to dull the pain. Even if I doubt that at the moment he is feeling much of it."

"How long until you can say for certain?"

"We will still have to wait and see but since the fever is broken, I am cautiously optimistic." The healer studied the King. "When have you eaten last?"

Thranduil shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

Celairdir snorted. "You need to keep your strength. I'll send for refreshments." He raised a hand to prevent Thranduil from voicing his protest. "No arguments."

Thranduil relented, feeling that it was not worth the fight.

For a while both of them were quiet as they listened to the labored breathing of the Prince.

* * *

He floated in darkness. At first he didn't feel or hear anything, missing the outside stimulus completely. Slowly, little by little, he began to become aware of some things. He was lying on something soft and a dull pain coursed through his body. Soft voices drifted through the air but he couldn't make sense of them. He was incredibly weak, he couldn't move or open his eyes.

Suddenly, there were hands on him and he felt himself being lifted gently. His back was supported by what felt like a chest and his head fell back and rested against a shoulder. The smell of pine and sandalwood wafted to his nostrils and he recognized the familiar scent of his father. He was too weak to open his eyes, resting limply against the older elf.

Somebody held a cup against his lips and slowly fed him a liquid that tasted like medicine. He even had trouble to swallow, so it took a while until the cup was empty. Still not being able to open his eyes, he tried to determine where he was but his mind was too muddled. Somebody softly stroked his brow, lulling him back to sleep and he slipped into oblivion again.


	3. Healing

Thranduil gently lowered Legolas back down, while Celairdir replaced the cup on the table. The healer checked the Prince's pulse and gave the worried father a reassuring smile.

"He is doing a little better. I hope the worst is over, even if it will take a while for him to recover."

The King breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't dare hope too soon, the previous night had left him badly shaken. He was utterly exhausted, the nagging fear for his son leaving him drained.

Celairdir gave Thranduil a scrutinizing look. "You look tired, why don't you rest? He pointed to another bed in the room. "Legolas will not wake for a while. I'll sit with him."

Thranduil wanted to refuse but Celairdir expected it and forestalled him. "You won't do him any good if you collapse from exhaustion."

After a moment of hesitation, the King relented and made his way over to the bed. "Wake me if there's even the slightest change in his condition." He laid down on the bed and soon his fatigue won and he slipped into sleep.

Celairdir settled down in the chair at Legolas' bedside, getting comfortable for the long hours of watching over the younger elf.

* * *

As Thranduil woke, he felt better. The light that fell through the window told him that he had slept for a few hours and that it was late in the evening. He pushed himself into a sitting position and immediately his gaze wandered to the bed his son rested in.

Celairdir was standing at the table, crushing herbs. As he heard Thranduil shift, he turned in his direction. "Good evening. I hope you slept well." He followed Thranduil's gaze and turned to Legolas, laying a hand on the younger elf's shoulder. "Don't worry, he is doing a bit better. He didn't wake yet but at least it looks like he is sleeping and no longer unconscious. His pulse is stronger."

Thranduil closed his eyes in relief, then he stood and went over to his son.

Legolas was still nearly as white as the sheets but his breathing was easier and as Thranduil touched his forehead, it was neither clammy nor burning. "What about his wounds?"

"No sign of infection and no further bleeding," the healer assured.

"The King took a deep breath. "That's good. When do you think he will wake?"

"I can't say for sure, but I don't think it will be too long now. He will be in considerable pain, even with the potion I gave him, so the more he sleeps, the better."

Thranduil nodded his understanding. "What about you, shouldn't you rest?"

"I will do so soon. I'll send for Fainor to attend to Legolas." The healer rubbed his eyes wearily. The last two days hadn't left him unaffected either. He was glad that Legolas showed signs of improvement so he dared to leave him in the care of Fainor and get some rest.

Thranduil gripped his shoulder. "Thank you, my friend." There were many emotions in the eyes of the King, the most prominent one was gratitude.

Celairdir squeezed Thranduil's hand. "You know how much I care about him. There is no need to thank me. You should send word to Galion, though. I imagine that the poor guy is quite busy at the moment."

Thranduil couldn't stop a chuckle. "I believe you are right. He surely has his hands full to fend off all the elves demanding one thing or another."

Celairdir smiled, gave Legolas a last look and left the room, finally being able to get some rest.

Thranduil reclaimed his seat at his son's bedside and resumed his watch, although with a lighter heart.

* * *

Once more the darkness receded somewhat and he was able to sense something. There was a dull ache, especially in his side and thigh. He still couldn't open his eyes or give any sign that he was aware of his surroundings. He heard the soft voices of his father and another elf, although he still couldn't make out what they were saying.

Breathing was easier than the first time he surfaced and his senses worked a bit better even if he still couldn't make sense of most of what happened around him. Somebody was touching him, lifting him up slightly while he felt other hands on his side. The pain flared momentarily, then something cool was spread onto his wound and his injury was wrapped again.

He felt himself being lowered back to the bed and his head came to rest on a pillow. A hand stroked his hair and he was covered with a soft blanket, then his father's voice sounded once more.

He tried to cling to consciousness a bit longer, but his body demanded rest and so he slipped into sleep again.

* * *

In the morning Thranduil was talking with Fainor when a light knock at the door interrupted them.

"Enter," Thranduil called.

The door was pushed open and Tinwion slipped through, closing it behind him.

"My Lord," he bowed to Thranduil. "I wanted to return this to you." He held out his hands and only now did Thranduil realize that he had Legolas' weapons. For a moment, he was confused, then he remembered that Tinwion had taken Legolas' weapons after they had removed them from his son.

He accepted the bow, quiver and knifes from the younger elf and placed them on a table, noting that Tinwion had obviously cleaned them. "Thank you for taking care of them."

The warrior inclined his head, then he straightened and cast a glance in the direction of the bed. "How is Legolas?" Tinwion and Legolas had often gone on patrol together and the both of them had developed a firm friendship.

Thranduil gave him a reassuring smile. "He is doing better. He hasn't woken yet but Celairdir expects him to make a full recovery."

"Tinwion breathed deeply. "Thank the Valar. I was worried, there was so much blood."

Thranduil couldn't suppress a shudder as he remembered how his son had looked as they had found him. "Yes," he agreed softly, "he gave us quite a scare."

"Has there been any word from Angon yet?" Tinwion asked.

"No word about orc activity so far. The patrols didn't encounter anything unusual. They will continue at least until the old forest road. We still don't know what these orcs were doing here."

"Thank the Valar that Legolas is such a fine warrior. Otherwise it could have ended badly."

Thranduil grimaced. "It ended badly enough."

Tinwion couldn't say anything to that. After all, the King was right.

* * *

Since Legolas was slowly improving, Thranduil had asked Galion to bring him the work gathering on his desk. He had pulled up a table and was now reading reports and responding to letters. His quill lightly scraped across the paper. Celairdir had returned a few hours ago and relieved Fainor. He sat in a corner, sorting herbs and other items. Except for the scraping of the quill and the rustling from Celairdir, the room was quiet.

A soft noise from the Prince immediately drew their attention. Legolas shifted in the bed, his head moving on the pillow. For the first time since they brought him to the stronghold he showed signs of waking.

Thranduil got up and leaned over his son, watching him intently. The younger elf moaned softly, then his eyelids fluttered. His forehead creased and it seemed that he was feeling the pain from his wounds.

"Legolas?" Thranduil asked softly.

Celairdir appeared at his side, laying a hand on Legolas' brow. "Penneth?" he asked. "Can you hear us?"

Another moan escaped from the younger elf, then his eyelids lifted and tired blue eyes gazed in their direction. Legolas blinked, seeming confused, then his eyes focused on their faces and a spark of recognition appeared.

Thranduil's lips curved upwards in a relieved smile. He felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from him. Finally seeing his son conscious again did a lot to ease his worry.

Legolas' eyes locked on his. "Adar," he whispered.

Thranduil smiled at his son, taking his hand and squeezing gently. "Ion nin, finally you are awake. You had me so worried."

Celairdir carefully gripped Legolas' shoulder. "Don't try to move, your wounds are severe."

Seeing the confusion in Legolas' eyes, his father asked softly, "Do you remember what happened?"

Legolas furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment. "The storm...orcs," he finally managed.

"Yes, you went out to check for damages and encountered a group of orcs. We found you south of the palace, badly injured," Thranduil explained.

Legolas' gaze darkened as he remembered the desperate fight. He swallowed and coughed weakly. "Thirsty," he murmured.

Celairdir took a pitcher of water from the table and filled a cup while Thranduil sat down on the bedside and carefully placed an arm behind his son's back. He lifted Legolas gently, not missing the soft hiss of pain as the movement pulled at the wound in his side. Celairdir placed the cup against Legolas' lips and let him drink. After the younger elf had enough Celairdir put the cup back and took another one.

"This will help with the pain," he explained.

He helped Legolas drink the medicine, then Thranduil carefully lowered his son back down.

Legolas needed a moment to catch his breath, lines of pain were visible on his face. He searched his father's gaze again. "How long..."

"More than two days," Thranduil said softly. "You lost a lot of blood and your wounds were poisoned." He brushed a strand of hair out of Legolas' face and gently laid his hand against his cheek. "You were very ill, my son."

"What about the orcs?" Legolas asked.

"After we found you, I send Agon out to follow your tracks. They found the orcs and burned them. Angon sent patrols out to search for more orcs but so far there haven't been reports about other groups of them."

Legolas blinked sleepily. "I didn't expect them so far in the north."

Thranduil pulled the blanket up to his son's chin. "We couldn't find out what they did there. I find it hard to believe that it was just bad luck that you encountered them." He studied his son's face. Legolas looked better, a bit of color had returned to him and he breathed easy once again even if he looked incredibly exhausted. "Sleep now, you need to rest," he ordered softly.

His son's eyes closed slowly and he relaxed into the mattress as sleep claimed him.

Celairdir watched Legolas intently and took his wrist, checking his pulse. He turned to Thranduil. "It will take some time for him to recover, but he is certainly out of danger now."

The King let out a sigh of relief. It had been days filled with worry and he thanked the Valar that they had spared his son and he could finally relax.

* * *

In the next few days, Legolas slept a lot, but his periods of wakefulness increased slowly. Thranduil still stayed most of the time with him, even if he had resumed some of his duties. Word about Legolas' condition had spread fast after he had been brought back to the stronghold and the elves of Mirkwood had feared for their Prince's live. So nobody begrudged the King the time he spend with his son.

Celairdir finally removed the stitches and allowed Legolas to leave his bed for the first time. The Prince's wounds still pained him and moving put a lot of strain on his side but he was persistent. With the help of his father, who had a firm grip around his waist, he slowly made his way over to the adjoining room.

Thranduil gently settled his son on the couch in front of the fireplace, placing a few pillows behind his back and covering him with two soft blankets.

The small exertion had exhausted Legolas, who was dismayed how weak he still was. But being able to finally get up and walk around did a lot to calm his restless spirit.

Thranduil pulled a chair over and settled at the table near the couch. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Not now. Thank you, Adar." Legolas relaxed against the pillows as the pain caused by his movements slowly abated.

"Angon and Tinwion asked if you are up for a visit. I told them maybe tomorrow. What do you think?"

Legolas smiled. "I would like to see them."

Thranduil returned his smile, noting with satisfaction that his color was nearly back to normal. "Good, I'll let them know. Just promise to not overdo it."

"Adar..." Legolas started to protest but he was interrupted when Celairdir entered with a tray in his hands.

"Something to eat for the both of you, you certainly need it." He placed the tray on the table and put two plates in front of Thranduil and Legolas.

The King couldn't help but chuckle at the attitude of the healer. "Thank you, my friend." He grasped Celairdir's arm and locked his gaze with him. "For everything." The other elf couldn't miss the gratitude shining from Thranduil's eyes. Celairdir had been a steady support during the last days and Thranduil appreciated it greatly.

Celairdir wordlessly squeezed Thranduil's shoulder, then he left father and son alone.

During their meal Thranduil entertained Legolas with a few episodes that had happened during council in the last days. After they had eaten, Thranduil settled down at the table to get some work done, while Legolas snuggled beneath the blankets and started to read a book.

After half an hour Thranduil looked up to see that the book was about to slip from his son's fingers. Legolas had drifted off to sleep. He silently stood up and rescued the book from falling to the floor.

Watching his son for a moment, he noted the steady breathing and the open, glazed eyes as Legolas wandered in elven dreams. He was certainly on the mend and Thranduil thanked the Valar once more that Legolas had survived the encounter with the orcs.

He knew that it wouldn't be long before his son would resume his duties and lead his patrol again into the dangerous parts of the forest. But at the moment he was on the road to recovery and safe within the stronghold and that was all that mattered.

He settled down again with his work, the only noises breaking the silence the soft breathing of Legolas and the occasional crackling of the fire.

For the first time since the storm, Thranduil truly felt at peace.

END


End file.
